


A Shit Time To Be A Templar

by hollyand



Category: Dragon Age (Video Games), Dragon Age - All Media Types, Dragon Age II
Genre: Crack, Dragon Age Kink Meme, Fluffy Ending, Humor, Light-Hearted, M/M, Shapeshifting, Slapstick
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-10-02
Updated: 2016-10-02
Packaged: 2018-08-19 03:21:39
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings, No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,489
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/8187656
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/hollyand/pseuds/hollyand
Summary: Written for the following hilarious (IMO) kinkmeme prompt: "Anders shape-shifts into a bird, shits on templars' heads. Bonus points for Meredith assuming the bird is a blood mage and giving Hawke a quest to kill it." I really couldn't resist the "Stop The Pigeon" reference. Sorry.





	

**Author's Note:**

> Was hoping to get this up before last month ended, but things got so busy that I wasn't able to finish it until now. 
> 
> An alternative title was going to be "The Unkindness of Ravens", but then I decided to go for the blunter, um, more descriptive version. Sorry.
> 
> Anyway. Hope you all enjoy my strange (and hopefully humorous) gift!

‘Knight-Commander,’ Cullen began, as the raven flew overhead, seemingly laughing at his attempts to dance out of the way, ‘perhaps we should conduct these sword drills another time.’

It was the second time that day he’d said it. Knight-Commander Meredith scowled up at the raven circling overhead, cawing delightedly at the way the suits of armour below ducked and dived. ‘I will _not_ ,’ Meredith snapped, jumping to one side, ‘be defeated. Not by the mages, and _certainly_ not by a bird.’

And then it came, as surely as it did yesterday and the day before. The moment the Knight-Commander barked ‘Focus! Fall in line!’ at her men, enraged at how she’d shown weakness in the face of something so trivial, the raven opened fire and unleashed a torrent of crap on the row of helmets it flew over. Not a single templar was spared.

***

And that was how Garrett Hawke found himself in the Knight-Commander’s office, tasked with what was probably his most bizarre mission yet.

‘So, let me get this straight,’ Hawke said slowly, brows knitted in incredulity as Meredith fixed him with a stony glare. ‘You want me to kill a bird, because it has been flying around shitting on templars’ heads.’

‘This is no ordinary bird,’ Meredith retorted. ‘I believe this bird is a blood mage in disguise.’

‘Blood mages don’t generally fly around shitting on templars’ heads,’ Hawke pointed out – not unreasonably he thought, but Meredith was having none of it.

‘This is a serious matter, Champion,’ Meredith said, sternly. ‘This filthy creature has been targeting the Order for days. How are we to defend this great city when we are too busy ensuring our heads are safe from its call of nature? How are we to keep the Circle in check if we face the mages covered in effluence?’

‘Nothing so undignified as a templar covered in bird poo,’ Hawke agreed.

‘Quite.’ Meredith paused, as if to check Hawke wasn’t laughing at her, before she spoke again. ‘I have my… other suspicions as to why I believe this is no ordinary bird.’

Well. Hawke _had_ to hear this – if only to hear how much more ridiculous this situation could get. ‘Oh?’

‘I am no ornithologist,’ Meredith continued, ‘nor any other sort of bird expert. It appears to be a raven, though I cannot say for sure. But even to my layman’s mind, this bird does not exhibit normal bird behaviour.’

‘OK,’ Hawke said, slowly, ‘and what exactly would that behaviour be?’

‘It… circles us, as if it is waiting for the right moment to strike.’ She shifted. ‘It has a strange cry. Like mocking laughter.’

‘Ravens are smart birds,’ Hawke said helpfully. ‘Playful, too. Sometimes they even imitate human speech patterns. I don’t think it’s beyond the realms of possibility they might even have learned to imitate human laughs.’

Meredith scowled at him.

‘…Or, so I’ve heard,’ Hawke conceded, beneath the weight of her glare. ‘But – you may have a point. I’ve never heard of a raven “circling” before it attacks, or even before it takes a shit.’

‘Indeed,’ Meredith replied.

‘So this is just the one raven, is it? Not an entire flock of them? Or not an entire _unkindness_ of ravens, I should say, if we use the proper term. Although,’ Hawke raised a grin, ‘this raven appears to be _particularly_ unkind.’

Meredith didn’t laugh.

‘Right,’ Hawke continued, hastily. ‘So. One troublesome raven. Lots of unusual behaviour. And lots of shit.’

‘I was also not aware they produce quite so much excrement,’ the Knight-Commander said, picking up on his last point. ‘This one appears to make enough to cover the entire Kirkwall Order.’

‘How can you be so sure it’s even a mage? It might just be… a very sick bird.’

‘Champion, this is serious,’ Meredith snapped. ‘I have never seen this raven defecate anywhere other than on our heads – and with alarming accuracy. I want you to capture this bird, and kill it. Blood mage or not, it is a nuisance.’

The Knight-Commander leaned forward threateningly, and Hawke tried to assume the best poker face he could as she addressed him in her iciest tone. ‘Remember who put you where you are today. It would be easy for me to whisk your title away faster than I bestowed it. It would be in your best interests to do as the Order commands.’

***

Hawke hadn’t seen Anders for days. His boyfriend was off doing something for the mage underground – or what was left of it – and Hawke missed him terribly. ‘I’ll be home as soon as I can, love,’ was all Anders said when he left with an affectionate kiss, and as Anders hadn’t returned yet Hawke couldn’t even discuss the Knight-Commander’s latest wild goose chase with him.

Even the others thought it was ridiculous.

‘But birds are very smart,’ was what Merrill had said when Hawke told them about it as they sat around the table in the Hanged Man. ‘Some of them do cause trouble sometimes, but… it seems wrong to kill it?’

‘Well, Meredith is convinced it is a blood mage,’ Hawke answered her, as Isabela topped up everyone’s drink.

Merrill looked puzzled. ‘That doesn’t sound like any sort of blood magic I know.’

‘And you _would_ know,’ Fenris murmured.

‘Where’s Blondie, Hawke?’ Varric asked, swiftly changing the subject.

‘I don’t know,’ Hawke said. ‘He’s apparently helping what’s remaining of the mage underground.’ He sighed wistfully. ‘He says he’ll be back as soon as he can.’

‘Something else I have to pretend not to know about, no doubt,’ Aveline said, with a sigh.

Hawke merely shrugged.

‘Oh, I’m bored of this,’ cried Isabela. ‘Let’s do something fun! Wicked Grace, anyone?’

‘I’m in!’ Merrill chirped, bouncing excitedly in her seat.

‘A good idea,’ Aveline said, with a relieved smile at Isabela, and the two women exchanged a nod of understanding.

Isabela winked at Hawke, and Hawke couldn’t help grinning back. It couldn’t make up for missing Anders, or worrying about him, and Hawke knew Isabela knew that; but he appreciated the pirate was doing her best to keep his spirits up until Anders returned safe and sound.  

***

_Nab him! Jab him! Stab him! Grab him! Stop that raven! Now!_

Hawke crouched on a rooftop in the Gallows, listening to the panicked cries of the templars as the raven swooped above their heads, while the Knight-Commander gave the laughing bird her best death stare. She shot an urgent glance at Hawke as the raven soared and flew round for another turn, while Hawke nodded his acknowledgement.

Right. Time to spring into action.

The raven swooped again. Instead of unleashing a deluge of mess, as the Knight-Commander had previously told Hawke it would, it seemed to take great pleasure in releasing its faeces as individual ‘gifts’ for each templar’s head.

 _Splat!_ went the first dropping that landed on a templar. _Thunk!_ went the next one, as the templar’s helmet reverbated with the echo. _Splat!_ came the next, and so on, as Hawke forced himself to stifle a laugh at the slapstick comedy down below, and readied himself to jump when the raven was in the right position.

To be honest, he didn’t really want to capture this bird: it was doing such a good job of doing what the templars in this city thoroughly deserved. But, Meredith had tasked him with catching and killing it; and while Hawke was reluctant enough to do the first task, he decided there and then he wouldn’t do the second. Pretend the bird was dead, maybe; warn it to leave Kirkwall and never come back; but outright killing it? Nah.

The shit came down in pellets now, and Hawke was impressed at the raven’s accuracy despite the templars’ frantic efforts to get out of the way. A single gold ponytail-like feather adorning the raven’s head caught the sunlight, and Hawke was momentarily distracted by the presence of the unexpected shiny thing, before he frowned in concentration. The bird was coming round again, cackling loudly, and Hawke was going to have to make his move – Knight-Captain Cullen was doing his best to fend it off with his sword, but Knight-Commander Meredith was glaring daggers at Hawke for not acting before they all got shat on.

And then, suddenly, the raven dived. The black missile aimed straight for Meredith, and Hawke leapt.

It was as he’d expected: in his panic at the look Meredith had given him, Hawke had completely miscalculated his move. There was a scream and a flurry of feathers; Hawke managed to grasp the raven’s tail, but it swerved out of the way with a surprised screech and flew off, leaving Hawke with two black feathers in his fist and colliding straight with a templar, judging by the loud _bong!_ sound that he made as he clattered into them; and Hawke landed, face down, sprawled on top of their body.

‘ _Champion_.’ Despite how winded she was, Meredith’s voice from the ground beneath him was angrier than he’d ever heard it. ‘Remove yourself from my person, before I remove the life from _yours_.’

As Cullen stretched out a hand to help him up, refusing to look at him out of sheer embarrassment, Hawke scrambled to get himself off the shit-stained Knight-Commander with the most genuine and heartfelt apologies he could come up with. 

***

The black-feathered bird didn’t just target the Gallows. It soared over most of Kirkwall, releasing its droppings onto the heads of every templar stationed in the city. The Rogue Raven of Kirkwall, as it quickly became known, never seemed to target citizens, apart from that one time when it tried to target two in particular.

Fenris watched the bird above him with narrowed eyes as he and Sebastian came out of the Chantry. Sebastian, however, remained utterly oblivious to the threat over their heads.

‘Is that the bird you said the Grand Cleric told you about?’ Fenris asked, and Sebastian looked up at last.

‘The one the Knight-Commander asked Hawke to dispose of?’ Sebastian said, his thick brogue rich and concerned. ‘I believe so.’

‘Perhaps we should do Hawke a favour,’ Fenris murmured, reaching for his sword, as the raven swooped down to dive-bomb them.

‘Missed,’ Sebastian said jubilantly, as he and Fenris expertly jumped out of the way, dodging again as the bird released its prize.

‘Missed again,’ Fenris agreed, watching its stools shower the pavement instead of them, as Sebastian readied his bow and arrow. ‘The Knight-Commander might have a point after all. That raven’s behaviour is definitely suspicious.’

The raven looked set to attack them again; but, almost as if it saw Sebastian pull his bow and arrow taut, seemed to think better of it, and flew away in the direction of the Hawke Estate. Fenris thought he saw a flash of gold on its head among its black feathers, and narrowed his eyes once again. He was going to have to tell Hawke about this.

***

It was only after Fenris had told Hawke about his and Sebastian’s near-miss with the Rogue Raven of Kirkwall that Hawke grudgingly accepted that the bird might not be a normal bird after all. And that he hadn’t imagined that odd gold feather on its head either.

Hawke yawned into his sleeve as he sat and watched over Hightown from the roof of his estate. The sun had set, the first stars were starting to twinkle in the darkening twilight, and all seemed peaceful in this part of the city as the riotous colours faded into the grey and black shadows that heralded the night.

Hawke hadn’t slept well since Anders had left. Even though Anders had reassured him he would be fine, it didn’t stop Hawke worrying about him. Hawke missed his Anders, and not knowing when his beloved blond healer would return made it harder. He missed Anders’s warm body in the bed at night, and missed his rumpled blond hair on the pillow in the morning. He missed his sleepy smile when he first woke and opened his honey-brown eyes, and missed the pale blue light of Justice crackling faintly across his skin at night.

Hawke rubbed his dark beard absently, trying to stay alert as he scanned the rooftops of Hightown, where the raven was apparently nesting. Following Fenris’s tip he’d been tracking the bird on its daily dung-filled activities, and while he’d often lost it as it flew around Kirkwall and its outskirts, these past few days it seemed the raven had decided to roost on one of these rooftops every evening.

Somehow Hawke had managed to miss getting caught in the crossfire of the Rogue Raven, or maybe it was deliberately holding itself back for him. The templars of the city, however, were less fortunate, and Meredith frequently summoned Hawke to vent her rage as the Order became the laughing stock of Kirkwall. Even the mages in the Circle couldn’t suppress their giggles anymore, as the bird came up with ever more creative ways to decorate the templars with manure.

(Hawke’s optimistic quip to Meredith – that so much bird poo on the Order surely meant that much good luck was coming their way – went down like a lead balloon. The Knight-Commander had fixed him with a glower so chilling that even Hawke had gulped in fear, and Cullen had hurriedly ushered him out before Hawke’s inappropriate jokes cost him his life.)

At last Hawke spotted it: the familiar raven he’d been tailing for days, its gold head-feather a bright streak against the rest of its dark plumage. It settled with a final graceful flutter of its wings onto the edge of the roof, hopping over towards Hawke before noticing that Hawke himself was getting to his feet.

‘OK, bird,’ Hawke muttered, grinning without humour. ‘Just you and me now. It’s showtime.’

The raven regarded Hawke with widened eyes, and Hawke took a careful step towards the bird, testing the faded red roof-tile he was about to step on with his feet before supporting his weight on it. The raven cawed at him, before turning around and stalking away.

‘Wait!’ called Hawke, quickening his pace, silently praying the roof would hold his weight. ‘Come back! I won’t hurt you!’

The raven hopped faster, and Hawke broke into a run; but still the raven bounded ahead of him.

‘Stop! I need to talk to you!’ Hawke cried desperately.

He sprinted after the raven, not caring how ridiculous he looked that he was racing a bloody _bird_ of all things, but it seemed more desperate to get away from him than Hawke was to catch it. Hawke yelled again, while the raven flapped its wings in preparation to take off, and Hawke lunged with his arms outstretched, propelling himself forward with all his might, determined not to miss the opportunity to question the bird.

In another time and place, Hawke would have laughed at the idea of dragging a bird into his estate for questioning. But desperate times called for desperate measures.

Hawke sailed through the air just as the creature began its flight, and caught its thin legs tight in his grip. The raven pulled Hawke through the air for a second, before landing with an ungainly crash and a squawk onto the rooftop.

 _Got you_ , Hawke thought triumphantly, even as he winced with landing hard on his belly; but the bird’s ankles were thickening and lengthening in his grasp.

Hawke was so shocked he almost let go, but as the bird’s fine black plumage shrunk into its body and the legs in his clenched fists grew, Hawke’s own eyes widened as a human-like figure unfurled before him – and before long Anders sat in front of him, huddled in his black feathery renegade’s coat, looking embarrassed.

‘What the–’ Hawke started.

‘Hello, love,’ Anders panted, a guilty flush spreading across his cheeks. ‘Fancy meeting you up here, of all places!’

‘Anders,’ Hawke said, his head still spinning. ‘The Rogue Raven of Kirkwall – that was _you_?’

Anders didn’t look at him as he grabbed his messy hair and pulled it roughly into his familiar stubby ponytail. ‘I suppose so.’

‘Well,’ Hawke said. ‘At least we know it wasn’t a blood mage after all.’

Anders bent forward and winced; Hawke automatically darted forward to help, but Anders had conjured a healing glow and was holding it over where he’d landed just now.

‘Did I hurt you?’ Hawke asked in concern.

‘I’ll be alright,’ Anders muttered, before throwing his boyfriend a weak smile.

‘Thank the Maker I wasn’t going to kill you,’ Hawke said, his relief overtaking any questions he might have over his boyfriend and unexpected avian behaviour.

‘Well, that’s good to know,’ Anders replied drily. ‘I _was_ worried.’

‘No, I meant–’ Hawke paused, his amber gaze on his shivering boyfriend. ‘Shall we have this conversation inside?’

Anders nodded, and both men stood up while Anders wrapped himself tighter in his coat as he led his lover over to what appeared to be a sentry box stationed on the roof of the Hawke Estate, and Hawke let out a low whistle.

‘I didn’t even know this was here,’ Hawke said, amazed.

‘This was where I came to rest every night,’ Anders said, unlatching the door and letting them inside. ‘It leads to a small room in the attic, and then we can get into the mansion from here…’

Hawke swore under his breath as he took in the makeshift living space Anders had created in the attic room he hadn’t even known he had. Dusty old tomes were scattered about the place, as if they’d been here for centuries; and the place was decked out in straw, including a nest of straw as a makeshift bed in the corner. The room smelt musty, as if it hadn’t been lived in, and Hawke could only assume from the smell and the glossy black feathers on the floor that Anders had actually spent at least half of his time in here in bird form.

‘Was – was _this_ the thing you were away for with “the mage underground”, Anders?’

Anders shifted uneasily. ‘The mage underground is dead, Hawke. Even Mistress Selby has gone. You already know Meredith and her men are oppressing mages harder than ever. They need their vengeance.’

‘Oh, I understand that,’ Hawke agreed, ‘but… becoming a bird?’

Anders held out his arms and looked proudly down at his coat. ‘Turns out this coat is enchanted,’ he explained, and Hawke goggled at the black coat he’d so recently bought as a gift for his lover. ‘I’d already learned some shape-shifting abilities, and it enhances them. So I decided to experiment. Becoming a raven and shitting on templars’ heads was really supposed to be a harmless bit of fun to de-stress from everything that’s going on right now.’

‘Not a bad idea, to be honest,’ Hawke admitted, impressed.

‘It wasn’t. Well, until Meredith got _you_ involved. Then I had to be a bit more careful.’

‘I wanted to tell you,’ Hawke insisted. ‘I missed you so much, and all I wanted to do was tell you about the latest crazy errand the Knight-Commander sent me on, but you weren’t home.’

‘Well. I’m home now.’ Anders smiled awkwardly at his lover, relaxing a little as Hawke beamed at him. ‘Quite a relief, really. You have no idea how much I had to eat to keep up that level of… activity. At least the water around the Wounded Coast was clean enough to bathe in afterwards.’

Hawke groaned. ‘I don’t want to know,’ he said. ‘I’m just relieved to have you home. Although… since Meredith wants me to capture and kill this raven – and I obviously don’t want to do the second bit – I’m wondering what I should do now.’

‘Well, that bit’s easy,’ Anders said, making his way out of the room and down the stairs to the main part of the estate, Hawke following him. ‘I think if the Knight-Commander wants me captured and killed, and you don’t want to do that, the game is pretty much up.’

‘Agreed,’ Hawke said, following Anders into the bedroom, as the blond mage turned his head and threw a saucy smirk over his shoulder. ‘You’ve been away far longer than you indicated you would though,’ he said, grinning, as he pulled Anders into his arms. ‘You need to make it up to me.’

‘Of course,’ Anders smiled, as he leaned in for a kiss.

***

The Rogue Raven of Kirkwall remained one of the great unsolved mysteries of their time. Hawke reported to Meredith that he had chased it out of the city before he could catch it, and that was the last word anyone heard of the bird. Occasionally, templars stationed in the city thought they saw the raven circling above their heads; but with no further happenings to confirm their fears, the raven’s weeks of terror eventually faded into memory, and became nothing more than local legend. 

 

**Author's Note:**

> EDITED TO ADD: Now with added fanart by the lovely steampoweredshine from Tumblr:
> 
> Come say hello at [hollyand-writes.tumblr.com](http://hollyand-writes.tumblr.com)!


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